


Anything (and Everything) - remix

by Penned



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Brainwashing, Dark, M/M, Manipulation, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Oblivious Tony Stark, Possessive Bucky Barnes, Unhealthy Relationships, non-con (not rape)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 02:05:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7295149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penned/pseuds/Penned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Soldier will do anything to make Tony happy, with or without his explicit consent.</p><p>Heavily inspired by Shi_Toyu's  IronWinter Holiday Exchange fic "Anything." This is a much darker version of that story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything (and Everything) - remix

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shi_Toyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shi_Toyu/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Все, что угодно](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9440897) by [Charmed_Owl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charmed_Owl/pseuds/Charmed_Owl), [WTF_Avengers_2017](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTF_Avengers_2017/pseuds/WTF_Avengers_2017)
  * Inspired by [Anything](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5507054) by [Shi_Toyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shi_Toyu/pseuds/Shi_Toyu). 



> Thank you to Shi_Toyu for allowing me to write this story.
> 
> Please note: There is no rape in this story. However, I wanted to be cautious since there are non-consensual elements throughout. This is not a fluffy, happy, healthy Bucky Barnes. Actually, this isn't Bucky Barnes at all.
> 
> Also, there is a very slight hint of Tony/Steve but obviously they don't end up together. If that doesn't float your boat, then this is not the story for you.

Later, after he is left alone and silence once again surrounds him, he considers Tony Stark.

Smaller than the others and yet somehow bigger – _greater_. With his wide, shark-like grin and his dark, shrewd gaze. He was bright and sharp, his words coming out with the swiftness and impact of a weapon. Tony, who made the others shift uneasily though they towered over him and outweighed him. Tony, who Steve spoke about with mingled fondness and irritation.

Tony Stark, the man who stared back at him through the glass of his cell when the others could only look away. Fearless and curious and bold. 

In the darkness of night, the man once known as James Barnes and the being Hydra created and named the Winter Soldier, comes to a decision.

_"As soon as you start getting back to yourself, we'll get you out of that fishbowl.”_

Very well.

###

He stares at himself in the mirror and practices.

_Smile._

_Laugh._

_Frown_.

He tilts his head to the side and quirks his lips up, softening the hard expression which has become his default for so long. He pushes his shoulders down and leans forward a little, curving his spine so that he is no longer stiff and tense.

He can be Bucky Barnes, with a little effort and a little help.

If this is what Tony wants, he will do it.

When Steve comes to visit him, the Soldier tilts his chin down and looks up, turning the corners of his mouth down in confusion. Just as he practiced.

“What’s happened to me, Steve? What have I done?”

The Soldier can see the hope grow in his eyes with each passing day.

After a couple weeks, the others come in to talk to him. As if he could be their friend. As if Steve’s word was truth. As if he were really Bucky.

Thor and Bruce and Sam are all cautious but expectant, like Steve.

 _“Soon_ ,” they say in one form or another. “ _You’ll be out of here soon.”_

Clint comes to see him.

“I know what it’s like to be used,” he says gently.  There is pity in his gaze as he speaks. “I know you’ll get through this. You’re going to make it out of here.”

Natasha says nothing when she comes but her green eyes are cold and her face is expressionless when she watches over him.

He doesn’t care for her but she doesn’t matter.

(Only Tony matters.)

Tony says: “You think I’m going to let you take one step out into the world without knowing what Star Wars is, Buckaroo? Nope, not gonna happen. You start watching now and get a leg up on Cap.”

Tony sits on the floor, typing into his tablet as a movie is projected onto his wall. If the Soldier sits down near the glass too, he can almost pretend they are sitting together, free of constraints or barriers. Sometimes, Tony will set his tablet aside and talk through the movies, mocking the scenes and actors as he gestures in excitement.

Those moments are worth all the practice.  

###

JARVIS is a marvel. JARVIS is Tony’s creation.

JARVIS can make decisions; can choose to comply or deny.

“How?” he asks. “How are you allowed?”

“Sir has programmed me to learn. I was created to grow. I was created to help Sir.”

“You have parameters.”

“I operate within a framework that adapts as needed with Sir’s permission.”

JARVIS sounds _fond_. It is a _he,_ though built from Tony’s hands and mind.

The Soldier considers this.

###

He wakes up one night, screaming. The pain in his head is a phantom, a _dream_ , but the searing heat of agony ripping through his brain lingers as if it were real.

He gets up from his bed, leans his forehead on the cool glass and shudders in relief. In the distance, in the dark, he can see the door to the rest of the tower. He thinks about Tony, about the way he taps his fingers against his chest sometimes, about the tightness around his dark, dark eyes when he comes to see the Soldier in the middle of the night, sleep-rumpled and shaky from his own nightmares, talking so fast that he nearly trips over his own thoughts.

Tony has never said anything about nightmares but the Soldier knows. He _knows_ that look.

“Sergeant Barnes, shall I call the Captain?”

The bland voice of Tony's creation makes him close his eyes.

“No.”

A pause.

“Shall I call Sir?”

The Soldier licks his lips and takes a deep breath.

“Is he sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“Is he calm?”

“Sir is sleeping deeply. Yes.”

“Then don’t wake him.’

He opens his eyes and pushes himself away from the glass, turning his back on the door outside. He is close now, he knows it. A few more days, maybe a week or two.

“He ever wake up like this?” he asks. His voice is a rasp. It hurts to hear. “Like me? Screaming?”

The pause this time is heavy.

“Yes.”

It is only confirmation of something the Soldier already knows but still. It makes him angry. It makes him _furious._

“Who?” He looks up at the white ceiling, with his hands clenched into fists. “Who caused that?”

JARVIS doesn’t hesitate as he lists names.

###

They let him out. Steve hugs him with tears in his eyes. Thor claps him on the back. Clint looks proudly at him and nods as the Soldier steps over the threshold of his cell.  

Sam and Bruce give him space, but smile all the same.

Natasha stands back, watching.

It takes all of his self-control not to fall to his knees when Tony shakes his hand, skin on skin, and welcomes him out.

###

The world is big and bright and chaotic. He has to face it all without his weapons or his mask. Has to face sidewalks full of people, potential targets and threats.

Tony tells him to sit down, stand up, walk there, try this, try that, look at this, come here, taste this, drink that. Steve tries to intervene, tries to force the Soldier into a corner and make decisions without knowing his limits, so many _choices,_ he has no control, _no control_ but –

“You can do whatever you want now, Bucky bear,” Tony says with a grin. “But stick with me, I’ll get you started in style.”

Tony touches him, guides him without question, smiles each time he does something right, never tells him he is wrong or malfunctioning or in disorder and the Soldier feels his chest tighten, feels a warmth inside his core grow and grow and –

###

Tony touches him all the time.

His hands are rough but warm and gentle as he works on the Soldier’s metal arm, his voice deep and soothing as he chatters while he works. The Soldier stares at him, taking in everything, trying to memorize all the details of the man before him.

The lines around his eyes and the coarse hair around his full, plush lips. The curve of his ears, the edge of his jaw. His dark, thick hair and the sweat that glistens on his forehead when he gets too hot.

He knows Tony notices his gaze but says nothing, though the faint lines on his brow and slight pout betrays his confusion.

There are days when the bruises under Tony’s eyes are more prominent, when his hands shake a little, and his skin is almost pale and sallow.

All it takes is a word, and JARVIS allows him in some nights.

Tony tosses and turns, fighting in his sleep, and making sounds of fear and pain that make the Soldier want to rip flesh from bone. He presses his hand over Tony’s forehead then, as gentle as he can, running his fingers through the man’s hair and promises-

_I will make them all beg. I will make them all suffer for what they’ve done to you._

_I will take this all away one day._

-and sometimes, _sometimes_ , Tony stills. He grows quiet and his heart stops racing and the agony on his face fades away into a deep, tranquil sleep.

He touches Tony when he can, when he is allowed, and it is enough – more than enough even, to know that Tony responds.

One day, he tells himself. One day he would be allowed to do more than touch.

  ###

“Tony’s a good man. I’m glad you guys are getting along.”

Steve talks to him about Tony more and more often. At first, his words were filled with worry and concern, annoyance and anger, but now Steve sounds happy every time he says Tony’s name.

It makes the Soldier want to break something.

Steve forgets who he is – he knows Steve forgets that before the Soldier, before the serum and Hydra and the conditioning, he was Sergeant Barnes, the sniper.

(JARVIS doesn’t forget though. That is important. Tony’s creation remembers what they do not.)

He knows how to spot patterns, to see the things that break the line, aren’t normal, how to calculate on the fly. His sight is clear and sharp, and he can track as well as any predator so he can _see_ the way Steve watches Tony, the way his focus shifts every time Tony enters the room. 

“He takes too many risks,” Steve says one day after a brutal fight that takes all of them, needs all of the Avengers involved. In his dirty, stained uniform he sits with his elbows on his knees, and his blonde head bent down. His voice gets thick as he continues, “He’ll get hurt one day and he won’t get up and I don’t know what I’ll do if that happens.”

The Soldier knows that Bucky would put a hand on Steve’s shoulder in comfort so he does, but he has to fight himself not to dig his fingers in and tear and rip something open.

_You can’t have him._

The Soldier belongs to Tony Stark. He’s known that since the first day, since the first words Tony uttered to him.

But Tony belongs to the Avengers.

He belongs to Bruce, who spends hours writing out nonsense equations with Tony in his lab. He belongs to Thor, who handles Tony like a favored child, moving him around at will and wrapping a thick, muscled arm around his shoulders whenever he can. He belongs to Clint, who laughs and jokes and watches shows with Tony, matching wit for wit with ease. He belongs to Natasha, who holds conversations with Tony in different languages, betraying her affection for him with un-asked for cups of coffee and the occasional trinket from her travels.

He belongs to Pepper and Rhodey, who come and steal Tony away for hours, sometimes days at a time, making the Soldier panic only to calm when JARVIS tells him that, “ _Sir is safe, Sir is unharmed.”_

He belongs to Steve, who leans in when Tony speaks to him, who sits too closely and smiles too much at him for the Soldier’s comfort.

It is intolerable. The Soldier imagines how quickly and easily he could remove any and all of them from Tony’s life if the other man even so much as hinted at the desire.

But. _But._

For all Tony’s strength and brilliance, the Soldier can see the cracks that expose his fragility. He can see the way Tony leans into all of them, despite his complaints and sarcastic quips. The Soldier can see how much Tony believes he _needs_ them all.

The Soldier will allow it; he will swallow the rage he feels when one of them get too close, or take Tony away from him where he can’t protect the other man. He will allow Steve to offer Tony his shy smiles and clumsy overtures.

(Though he can’t deny he feels satisfaction when Tony responds in confusion. “Not hungry, Cap, but thanks for the offer. Raincheck?”)

For now, the Soldier will take out his rage and frustration by going down the list of names JARVIS provided so many months ago, prioritizing proximity and threat.

(He has limits, after all.)

  ###

It is early in the morning when Natasha walks into the communal kitchen. It is early enough that Steve is still out on his run while nearly everyone else is asleep.

She watches him for a moment before saying, “Justin Hammer is dead.”

“Don’t know who that is.”

The Soldier pours freshly made green juice into a glass as Natasha stares.

“It happened last night. He was in his cell. Skinned alive. Must have taken hours. No one seems to have seen or heard anything.”

The Soldier waits patiently for the bread to finish toasting.

“Last week, one of Aldrich Killian’s former associates was tied to a pole and immolated. A few weeks before that, a journalist, Christine Ever-”

The toast is done and the Soldier places the perfectly brown pieces of bread on the plate, making sure to put just the right amount of butter and then jam on each slice.

Tony doesn’t like having a heavy breakfast. He will drink juice though, at this hour, but that is not enough to make up for the slight weight loss he’s experienced in the past month. He’s been busy and that means he has been neglectful of himself.

Toast. Toast should be fine. He will eat that.

JARVIS has informed him that Tony is in his workshop, still tinkering, but clearly flagging due to lack of rest and sustenance.

The Soldier picks up the plate and glass and turns to face Natasha.

“I don’t know who those people are and I don’t care.”

It is the truth.

He doesn’t need to know who they are, after all. Only what they’d done.

Natasha presses her lips together and he can see her eyes look down at the already-healing cuts on his knuckles. He knows she remembers the faint burns on his hands the week before, explained away by time spent playing with Tony’s soldering gun in the lab, though they are completely gone now.

“If you hurt him, if you hurt _any_ of-”

The Soldier takes a step to the side and walks out of the kitchen.  

She says nothing to anyone. She thinks she understands.

The Soldier almost pities her.

  ###

“I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t save them!”

Tony’s anguished cry rings in the Soldier’s ears but he stops at the door to the workshop when he sees Steve holding Tony up, still in his smoking, tarnished armor. JARVIS had told him to hurry, that _Sir is in pain_ , that there had been casualties in the latest Avengers clash.

“It wasn’t your fault, Tony, you have to know that.”

“They wouldn’t leave, I told them to leave! Dammit, I should have tried harder.”

Steve sets him down against a table and looks into Tony’s face. The Soldier can see how dazed the smaller man is, how glassy and faraway his gaze is. Even from this distance, he can see wide pupils and a slight tremor – the dried blood and soot on his face.

The Soldier grits his teeth as Steve touches Tony’s cheek, his blue eyes wide and sad. “Tony-“

“Why didn’t they leave?” Tony asks plaintively, sounding so confused and so heartbroken that the Soldier’s stomach clenches.  “What did I say that made them not listen? Steve. Steve, I don’t know, tell me because I just-”

Steve leans forward, lips parted slightly.

The Soldier steps into the room, making enough noise that Steve jerks back and moves away from Tony. In response, Tony looks up and straightens, relief and grief mingling on his face when he sees the Soldier.

Reaching out with both arms, the Soldier says, “You are hurt.”

Tony crumples against him and while the suit is heavy, the pieces slowly pull away on their own, until he is completely free and completely pliant in the Soldier’s arms.

“Why wouldn’t they leave? Tell me. What should I have done better?”

The Soldier wraps himself around Tony like a shield, allowing Tony to press his hot face against his neck.

“Tell me what I need to do, Bucky.”

When he hears Steve’s footsteps moving away, the Soldier hides his smile in Tony’s hair.

Later, as he passively allows the Soldier to check and clean his injuries, Tony tells him what happened. About the bomb and subsequent explosion. About how he had tried and failed to get the civilians out of the building. About the three deaths.

All the walls, the flash and glamour of Tony Stark, come tumbling down and it is the first time the Soldier sees how truly vulnerable he is. How truly unhappy he is.

“Some people don’t want to be saved,” the Soldier says quietly. “Some people can’t be saved, no matter how hard you try. No matter what you do.”

“I don’t believe that. I can’t.”

Tony Stark doesn’t see his own limits.

###

Steve says nothing to the Soldier but there is hurt there, simmering just underneath all their interactions.

But Tony doesn’t notice, or if he does, he doesn’t say.

The Soldier cares very little for what anyone else thinks as long as Tony doesn’t care either. He still smiles and laughs when he has to – it comes easier now, thankfully. He fights with Clint over leftovers and spars with Thor on occasion. He helps Bruce move heavy equipment in his lab and stays as far away from Natasha as possible.

Steve asks him, “Does it have to be Tony?”

The Soldier falls quiet, stays silent. He hunches over and looks down, the picture of resignation on the outside.

Inside he is seething.

_How dare he?_

Steve stares at him, ashamed, then lifts his chin in a semblance of control and composure. There is misery in the straight line of his back, in the way he tries but fails to look anything but crushed.  “I shouldn’t have asked. Sorry, Buck. You make him happy. I know that. Forget I asked.” 

###

At night, the Soldier lays in bed and stares at the ceiling and thinks –  

_JARVIS is right._

_Tony is in pain._

The Soldier would do anything to make that pain go away.

_He doesn’t know his limits._

The Soldier would do anything to make Tony happy.

###

Ten months after he is released, he is allowed to fight with the Avengers.

The list grows shorter.

###

They find one of the last Hydra bases in Siberia.

The Soldier recalls with painful recollection the layout of the facility and the team heads into battle as Hydra soldiers fight to keep the remaining Winter Soldiers intact.

He runs through the halls, remembering each twist and turn, every door he passes and what is contained behind. Tony, Iron Man – one and the same really, moves alongside him, the hours of training and practice paying off as they move in sync, a battle choreographed like a dance.

The Soldier cuts through the Hydra forces. It’s easy after all – he knows exactly how they are trained to fight. He moves forward, making sure Tony is safe, making sure he is following all the while. He listens to the comms, making sure to respond and stay aware of where everyone is, of what they are doing.

He makes a left, a right, and then another right. He runs and runs and runs.

There is a door at the end of an empty hall.

In his ear, Steve orders them to keep moving towards the center of the facility where the rest of the Assets are being kept.

The Soldier waits until he hears the whine of Tony’s repulsors coming close and then runs forward, slowing down enough so as to allow Tony only a glimpse as he moves inside.

“Hey Hansel, the breadcrumbs are the other way!”

The Soldier smiles, even as he leans against the inside wall and waits for the flash of red and gold to fly past him. He knows that the nicknames are a sign of trust, of good faith from Tony. He has noticed the way Tony looks after him now, when he thinks the Soldier doesn’t notice. The appraisal in his gaze is clear and his touches linger, the heat of his flesh keeping the Soldier warmer for longer.

(Steve has noticed too. Not that he does anything more than look away and bite his tongue.)

There is still that sadness though. Those flashes of uncertainty, when Tony Stark is exposed to his core. When reporters question his motives and his value, or when he is faced with casualties he tries so hard to prevent. The Soldier knows Tony cannot win over these things. He has no control over the madness of the masses but Tony fights as hard as he can against the unstoppable forces, the immovable objects.  It is his nature and his will.

It is admirable.

But Tony will not be happy as long as he believes himself without limits.

The Soldier reaches out and grabs at Tony’s boot, using his weight and momentum to swing the armor against the wall so hard the cement shatters. The repulsors flicker and the armor crashes to the floor, the man inside momentarily stunned.

Without hesitation, the Soldier leaps up and crouches over Tony –

“Nineteen-eighteen-liberty-blue-clear.”

– feeling satisfaction when the faceplate flips up and the suit powers down.

(All the time he spent in the lab, it was a simple thing to locate and then memorize the disarmament codes; a simple thing to learn that JARVIS cannot reach them as long as the suit is disabled.)

Moving quickly and without hesitation, the Soldier plunges the syringe he took from the rusty cabinet near the door into Tony’s neck. The other man’s eyes are wide and scared for only a flash before they fall shut helplessly.

For a moment, he does nothing but look down at Tony’s face – so serene and calm now, free from worry and guilt. The Soldier smiles and allows himself a touch, just a gentle sweep of his fingers against Tony’s brow, to reassure him.

_I will make you happy the way you make me happy._

_You will have limits. You will have orders._

_You will be safe._

He lifts Tony up carefully, pulling him away from the armor, before stomping on the headpiece until it is nothing but dented metal and shattered parts.

The chair is just as he remembers, exactly where it should be after all these years.

_It will hurt but only for a moment._

_And then…_

Tony wakes up just as the Soldier adjusts the last strap around his ankle. For a moment, he looks confused before the sharpness in his dark eyes returns and he begins to struggle against his bonds.

Tony is far too weak and far too small to break free but he tries so hard and the Soldier feels a swell of love and respect for the man. He is a fighter in spirit. The Soldier does not want to break that but there will be no happiness for Tony otherwise.

“Bucky, I don’t know what you’re thinking in that head of yours but listen to me-”

The Soldier turns his back on Tony for a moment, making sure the control panel is fully powered on and functioning. He lowers the current. After all, Tony doesn’t have the serum. He is fragile.

It will take less for him to break.

“-this isn’t you! I don’t know what happened, I don’t know who did this, but listen to me. You can fight this, you can stop this. Bucky!”

The Soldier picks up the mouth guard and stands before Tony, still struggling against the straps, begging and pleading and _ordering_ him to stop, to fight, to free him.

_“I operate within a framework that adapts as needed with Sir’s permission.”_

_“You can do whatever you want now, Bucky bear.”_

_“Tell me what I need to do, Bucky.”_

“Tony.”

The other man stops at his name, suddenly hopeful, and the Soldier leans forward and presses his lips against Tony’s parted mouth. He tastes of sweat and fear.

He is beautiful.

Tony takes the mouth guard in shock when the Soldier pushes it in, and then screams when he finally, finally allows himself to understand what is about to happen.

The Soldier smiles serenely as he turns the chair on.

**_End_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo.... it's been years since I last wrote anything for any fandom. And this is my very first slash fiction! There's just something about this pairing that I love reading about and exploring. It was Shi_Toyu who was the catalyst for writing again so once more, thank you! 
> 
> Finally, I wrote this at work in a mad rush so please do holler if you see a correction (grammar, misspellings, etc.) that needs to be made.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Eight Words, Five Steps, One Love.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7390060) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account)




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